


adolescent craze

by palinoia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: :(( how horrible, Aged-Up Character(s), Blood As Lube, Blood and Violence, Bloodplay, Branding, Captivity, Childhood Friends, Crying, Dacryphilia, Dark, Dirty Talk, Dollification, Flashbacks, Humiliation, Kidnapping, Killing, Marking, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Violence, Obsession, Other, Overstimulation, Pain, Possessive Kageyama Tobio, Possessive Sex, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violent Sex, Yandere Kageyama Tobio, creepy behaviour, dark kageyama tobio, gender neutral reader, kags is a bad person, serial killer kags, yaaay my first fic w/ gn reader!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palinoia/pseuds/palinoia
Summary: “Are you sure you’re really okay?”You’ve always been fearful since you were a child. It was second nature to you.“I keep hearing things, it’s scaring me!”You thought you’d be free from the confines of dread, but you’re only left with a sinking sensation in your gut.“Someone’s following me.”Your childhood best friend was the reason you ran away. You thought he’d get better. That he’d change for the better.“You’ve always been mine.”But Kageyama Tobio has claimed your body and mind, and that evidence is irrefutable.You’ve been his since the beginning.He won’t ever let you forget it.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio & Reader, Kageyama Tobio/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 72





	adolescent craze

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiii
> 
> so yes i wanted another spooky yan!kags but w/ him going all out instead of just killing off his love AND it’s gn!!!!
> 
> this was fun to write so,,, here you go!! i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> warning: read all the tags,, it’s not really pretty & vv violent,,, i don’t condone this!!
> 
> :(( psycho kid tobio is smth i never knew i needed

_“(N/n). (N/n)!”_

_Someone calls your name in an excited rasp. You pivot on your heels and catch a glimpse of the person yelling for your attention._

_Kageyama Tobio._

_Your childhood friend._

_His dark, straight locks bounce with his movements, his large, blueberry-tinted orbs scanning your figure._

_Scanning your face._

_”Wh... what is it, Tobio-chan?” You meekly respond to him, your hands fumbling with the handkerchief in your hands._

_You’d fallen and scraped your knee and were now tending to it._

_You wanted to quickly clean it before your mother could see. She didn’t need you sustaining any injuries added on to her already humongous list of concerns._

_“Come with me.” He demands, and you comply, carefully scrunching your cloth in your pocket and lifting yourself up from the ground._

_”We’re not gonna go far, are we?” You worriedly ask him, trailing behind the taller boy as you gaze at your surroundings._

_Pine trees and branches and bushes. You’re surrounded by greenery._

_Nobody else frequents this part of the area apart from you and Tobio._

_You both claimed it as your little sanctuary._

_”Look what I found.” Tobio’s not usually one to be relatively excited about much, apart from when he forces you to play volleyball with him (you always end up getting hit in the face and crying), so you’re pleasantly surprised that he’s become interested in something else._

_You’re also a little hesitant, but you shove those feelings down._

_He prods at the thing lying in a heap on the dewy grass._

_You gasp._

_A little bird, with a broken wing. You determine it’s broken since all the bird does — a robin, you suspect — is wiggle around like that worm Tobio threw at you, searching for relief but finding none._

_”Tobio-chan,” you begin, and gently caress the little bird in your palms. “We need to get help!” You gaze up at the silent boy._

_He doesn’t reply to your urgent imperative._

_”Tobio-chan!” You raise your voice, “how long has the bird been like this? When did you find her?” Your mother’s taught you a thing or two about bird genders._

_Male robins are darker in colour compared to their female counterparts._

_However, about helping a bird? You have no clue._

_You decide to ignore your best friend’s presence and wrap the injured bird in your handkerchief. You whisper an apology to the bird for having to stay in the confines of your bloody cloth._

_”(Y/n).”_

_Tobio steps behind you, his hand seeking out the bird._

_You don’t know what compels you to, but you let him wrap his hands around the bird, his thumb stroking her injured wing._

_”Tobio-chan,” you frown at the sight of the wounded bird. She must be in so much pain._

_”(Y/n),” Tobio addresses your attention, you warily gaze at him. “She’s not going to live for long.” You know that, and so does he, so why isn’t she getting medical help?_

_His hands tighten around the bird, squishing her slightly._

_”I’ll put her out of her misery.”_

_You hear a crunch and then a snap._

_♪_

You think you hear someone following you. It’s been happening a lot, lately.

It’s faint and quiet, the footsteps— but the telltale weight and shift of movement give it away.

Someone’s trailing after you.

You have no clue what they could want. You’re not someone famous nor are you well-known amongst a lot of people.

You have no desire to be.

You share an apartment with your best friend, you go to college with a couple of good friends and you work in a small café as a part-time job. When you’re not working, you frequently drop by your mother’s house to check up on her wellbeing.

There’s not much to you, and you’d find the situation you were in funny — really, though, just how boring must someone’s life be to follow you around? — if not for the fact that you occasionally hear heavy breathing and rapid patters of steps in areas that you’re alone in.

It’s terrifying. You want it to stop.

You dart through the streets to get home faster than normal. You hope that your roommate is at home and not outside doing his usual chaotic antics.

You run up the stairs to your apartment — small but roomy enough for you both — and fiddle with your keys, hastily ramming it in the lock and twisting the doorknob.

A shocked face greets yours and you stumble back a bit in fright.

”(Y/n)? What’s... hey, what’s wrong? Why do you look so scared?” His tuft of orange hair smells fruity like usual — it’s smelt that way since you first met him, which is an admirable feat, and tickles your cheek as he envelops you in a hug.

You urge him to go inside and he obeys, slamming the door shut and dragging you over to the couch.

He pushes you down and goes to grab a glass of water. You watch him with half-lidded, tired eyes.

You’re exhausted, you want to lay down and sleep for a good while but every nerve in your body is on fire, subconsciously preparing you for something you’re not even aware of.

It’s been like this for a good week or so.

”Here,” he places the glass in your hands and sits beside you. You thank him.

”What’s up?” He tentatively asks. Shouyou isn’t the best at reading moods, you’ve seen it happen a couple of times, but he instinctually knows when you’re upset or tired.

He knows all of your moods. You can’t hide anything from him.

“I...” you trail off. You don’t know where to begin. You nervously gulp down some of the water, the liquid cooling your parched throat. “You remember when I told you about the... mysterious figure?”

Shouyo visibly shudders, a spooked expression dancing its way onto his face. His hazel orbs meticulously peer at you, scanning your form for any signs of discomfort.

He’s so intuitive and attentive to your welfare. You couldn’t have asked for a better roomie.

”Oh, yeah, that.” He pauses, his eyes widening. “Did you see them again? (N/n), tell me if you see them, so I can make sure that they leave you alone!”

”Thanks, Shoucchan,” you smile up at him, “but I hope I don’t see them again.” You frown into your water, the glass mimicking a distasteful, wonky reflection of your image on the transparent glass.

”I hope they lose interest in me.”

_♪_

_“(Y/n), you’re sleeping over tonight, aren’t you?” Tobio asks you, his eyes trained on the volleyball in his hands as he tosses it up into the air._

_He catches it. “You promised you’d stay.”_

_You rip your gaze away from the orange ball to his slouched figure._

_He’s been strangely clingy lately, ever since that fateful day where he—_

_Just thinking about it threatens to empty your stomach contents._

_”Tobio-chan,” you don’t think you’ll be allowed to stay the night. How do you tell him that?_

_”I’m sorry...”_

_He seems to understand the sorrow-filled tone of your voice, your facial expression sombre and tense._

_”Can’t you just convince your mom to stay over?” He refuses to take no for an answer._

_”No, I don’t think so.” You shake your head. “I have to go visit my cousin tomorrow, so I need to leave early in the morning.”_

_”Yeah,” he inputs, “I’ll wake you up, so don’t worry and stay here with me.”_

_He’s fully discarded the ball, letting the object roll away to sit near his table legs, and he jumps onto the bed, his figure landing near you._

_”I can’t,” you meekly supply, bouncing slightly from the impact of his weight._

_His jaw tenses. He reaches behind his pillow for something._

_”(Y/n),” he draws out the syllables in your name, his tone threatening._

_You squeak._

_”Why do you want to stay away from me so badly?”_

_You can’t answer that; you don’t know how to._

_How do you tell your best friend that they’re scaring you?_

_”Tobio,” you whimper, scooting away from him and his piercing gaze._

_His hand grabs your ankle. You’d scream but something sharp and cold runs along the skin of your calf._

_”T— Tobio-chan?” You stutter, your blood running cold._

_He gently sets the knife — long and menacing, you wonder how he even managed to sneak it into his room — under your chin, right atop your jugular vein._

_”You’re going to stay with me,” his tone leaves no room for protest, “or else.”_

_You’re stuck in a bad position, one that you can’t escape from._

_“Yes,” you whisper._

_You have to obey him or else he’d kill you._

_You wonder when your best friend became your worst nightmare._

_♪_

”Have you seen the news?” Yachi, your friend and classmate (you both share a long for English), prompts, her tone laced with fear.

She’s always been a bit of a scaredy-cat, and you’re honestly the same.

Anything instils fear into both of you.

”No,” you respond, clutching your textbooks in one hand as your other presses a button on the vending machine.

A milk carton pops out from below.

Yachi crouches down and grabs it for you. She jumps back up and pokes the straw through the hole.

So helpful. You love that about her.

You thank her and eagerly drink the refreshing milk, quenching your thirst, and listen to her ramble.

”Th— the _Creator_ , he’s still on a rampage. It’s honestly quite terrifying, the police have no indications whatsoever of who could be the perpetrator behind the act and the line of victims don’t make sense. They have nothing in common!”

Creator? Victims?

”Is that...” You thoughtfully chew on the inside of your cheek as you rack your brain for any tidbits of information regarding the topic.

”Ah!” You exclaim. “The murderer who, uh,” what’s the word? “Doll-i-fies? His victims?”

”That’s not a word,” Yachi shuts you down, “but everything else is correct. He makes his victims look like dolls. It’s chilling because they really do look like works of art.”

”What’s his incentive? To assert some artistic claim?” You both walk down the corridor to your classroom for your next lesson.

”I don’t think it’s as straightforward as that,” Yachi is wildly smart so you’re sure she has a whole cork-board full of ideas pertaining to the serial killer. “There must be a hidden motive.”

”Don’t worry so much, Yacchan.” You feel like a hypocrite for saying that since you’re as anxious as her, but you need to assuage her fears before your own. You won’t feel right if you don’t.

”I’m sure they’ll get caught soon enough.”

Yachi looks perturbed and, strangely, sceptical of your optimistic statement.

You don’t know if you should feel worried if your anxiety-ridden friend is calmer about this situation than you.

” _If_ they get caught.”

_♪_

_Your white rabbit, dotted with speckles of brown, jumps on your lap, nosing its face into your palm._

_You giggle and cup the small animal in your hands, idly fumbling with the floppy ears._

_”Are you hungry?” You coo at your rabbit, hoisting him up in the air and making a cute face at him._

_He wiggles and his nose twitches._

_You drop him in your arms, cradled to your chest, and leap into the kitchen to get some nourishment for your pet._

_Your mom got him as a birthday present for you, and ever since then, you’ve loved him like one would cherish a younger sibling._

_He hardly ever causes a fuss for you and he’s always around to make you happy._

_He keeps you company when you’re not visiting Tobio._

_Tobio rarely frequents your place anymore; when you tug on his sleeve, he just pushes you away._

_Says something about reliance, about you staying with him._

_You can’t connect what he says so you just tell him to come round when he’s free._

_You miss him, even if he’s been acting strange lately._

_He must just be in a mood._

_You kiss the top of your bunny’s head and fondle the little tail._

_He nuzzles into you._

_Tobio will come around, soon._

_... He does visit._

_He saunters into your room and drops his bag to the floor, flopping onto your bed._

_”Tobio!” You yell at him to be careful of your rabbit._

_The poor thing nearly got squashed by him._

_Tobio just glares._

_His gaze isn’t pinpointed at anything, so you just assume he’s angry at you chastising him as if he was a child._

_Sometimes you think he is._

_Your mom calls you down to bring up some treats for both of you._

_You rush downstairs and grin at the sight of chocolate chip cookies. Your favourite._

_”Thanks, mom!” You decorate the plate with a bunch of cookies and grab two milk cartons, walking up the stairs two steps at a time._

_”Tobio-chan, look, mom made—“_

_The plate falls to the floor._

_You shriek._

_”T— T, To,” you can’t get any words out as you rush to your bed, shedding tears at the sight before you._

_Tobio and your rabbit — your cute, loyal pet, blood pooling in his lap as he languidly scratches at your rabbit._

_”What did you—?” You’re horrified. Your once alive rabbit was now dead, severed on that stupid knife of his._

_”Get out!” You angrily punch his shoulder. “Get out, get out—!”_

_Tobio tightly snags your wrist, twisting it just enough that you whimper in pain, and he forces you to your knees._

_”Shut up,” he spits at you, the crimson liquid on him making him appear as a demonic entity rather than your innocent best friend._

_”I told you not to choose anyone over me.”_

_You struggle against him but all he does is bruise your wrist, not above using violence to put you in your place._

_You cry at the pain of both your dead pet and your injured wrist._

_”I told you to pay attention to only me.”_

_♪_

It’s the dead of night when you wake up, your hand immediately checking your phone next to you for the time.

03:15.

Odd time to get up, but you feel an increasing urgency to relieve your bladder.

You let the phone bounce against your bed as you flip your sheets off of you, second-guessing if you should leave when you don’t feel the embrace of warmth any more, yet you shake your head and crawl out of bed.

You filter your way through your room and into the hallway to the bathroom.

After relieving yourself, you opt for a quick cup of hot milk and honey.

If you’re already up, you might as well have something.

Lazily scanning through the ceramics, you come across your volleyball-themed mug and pour some milk in it. You place the cup in the microwave and warm it up for a minute.

You find the honey bottle and squeeze some of it in your mug once you take it out of the microwave.

You stir it with your spoon, making sure to mix it thoroughly.

When it’s all done, you turn the microwave off and put the spoon in the dishwasher.

You don’t really need to sit down, so you just stand and sip at the warm, sweet liquid, the substance relaxing your nerves almost instantaneously.

Your eyes glance around the kitchenette. You can’t hear anything and it’s so dark that only the faint illumination of the moonlight provides you with some form of lighting.

You’ve drunk half of the milk by now.

You feel a little lightheaded, a tad sleepy. Warm milk always makes you tired, ever since you were small.

Your orbs sweep past a ruffle in the curtain where your balcony is.

Hm? You go to inspect it, mug still in hand.

Just as you thought, it was only creased by the wind.

And here you had a sinking suspicion something else was the cause of it.

You turn around, inspecting if any other objects are out of place or if any curtains need smoothing.

A tall, lithe figure is loitering in your hallway, standing still as you peer at them in horror.

Your lips quiver as your hold on your cup goes limp, the mug shattering on the floor.

This provokes a reaction in the trespasser, as they dart forward to subdue you.

You stumble backwards and ram your hip into the couch, frantically looking around for a weapon you could use to protect yourself with.

The figure latches onto your figure, shoving you to the ground, and slams their palm against your mouth.

You shrill, squirming in their firm seizure of you, tears prickling your eyes and dampening your cheeks.

It’s too dark to see your assaulter’s features, but you know they’re a male and they have dark-blue eyes.

One of their large hands rests on your throat, constricting your breathing as your hands try to claw their grapple off you.

”Shut the fuck up,” they lowly mutter. You’re sure you’re turning blue. They’re going to kill you.

You beg for someone— you beg for Shouyou to come back and help you, but the male’s at his mom’s house and won’t be back within a day.

“Pl— pl, stop, guh, please,” you choke out words between mouthfuls of rapidly declining oxygen, your palms losing strength as you succumb to the throes of darkness and stars that swirl in your vision.

The figure allows you to fall unconscious.

When you drearily wake up, you’re on the floor and there’s a stinging sensation on your hand a throbbing one on your neck.

You inspect your hand first; there’s a deep gash in the middle of it, dried blood encircling it. Your throat feels sore when you rub a hand against it.

You quickly find your bathroom mirror; there are deep, purplish-blue marks wrapped around your neck like a grotesque necklace.

It’s painful to look at.

You know for sure you’ll have to wear scarves or turtlenecks to cover these bruises up.

You’re also sure that you’re going to call the police and inform them of what transpired yesterday, and call Shouyou to update him on the situation.

You’re not sure why your assaulter didn’t finish you off.

It didn’t make sense.

Why go through all that trouble, then?

_♪_

_“You’re leaving, then?” Tobio coolly questions you._

_You blearily nod, your nerves set affright and your stomach doing flips._

_Being around Tobio unsettles you. You never know what he’s going to subject you to, next._

_”Mom got a new job,” you provide a justification for moving._

_You can’t tell him that you notified your mother about Tobio’s recent strange and cruel actions and that your mother promptly set to work searching for a place for you to to live in._

_”Why so suddenly?” His voice is dripping in saccharine politeness. You have a small inkling that he knows the exact reason for the abrupt moving._

_”Didn’t she just recently get a promotion?”_

_Your eyes threaten to leak tears but you calm yourself. Only just barely, though._

_”She’s... been having some difficulty. This will be a good change for her.”_

_Tobio doesn’t look convinced by your measly attempt of an answer._

_”What about you, then?”_

_His change of topic has you cocking your head. What’s he playing at?_

_”Me?” He nods. “I’m okay with it, as long as mom is happy.”_

_His expression darkens. You take notice._

_”B — but I’ll miss you lots, Tobio-chan!” You try to mollify his anger. “I’ll give you my volleyball bracelet for you to remember me by, so don’t worry! I won’t forget you!”_

_”Can I give you something, then?”_

_You swing your head up and down, self-preservation is thrown out the window and replaced with your need to appease the, somewhat, psychotic boy._

_He shoves your top up slightly, his slender fingers groping the flesh of the side of your waist._

_”Here,” he prods the baby fat there, pulling it slightly and eliciting a wince from you. “I’ll give it to you here.”_

_What is he going to give to you?_

_Your question is answered when something sharp and thin presses against your skin, piercing your flesh._

_”Wh— stop! What are you doing?” You jerk away from him, flush against the bed, and flail your legs when he sits on your chest, compressing your lungs._

_”Get off! Tobio!”_

_He’s not listening to you, digging the knife into your skin with dark desire and possessive intent._

_“Stop it stop it stop it!”_

_You screech, the blunt object continuing to slash through your skin, curving this way and that as you toss and turn, your legs kicking out._

_The pain is unbearable; you feel close to passing out— wanting nothing more to relieve yourself from the torture he's carving into you, both mentally and literally._

_”Tobio,” you gurgle, snot and tears a messy patina on your face, creating the look of utter despair onto your features._

_He’s still not listening._

_He never listens to you._

_You’re half out of it, all attempts of struggle ceased as you limply lay on the bed, sandwiched under his weight._

_”There,” he proudly says — just how messed up is he to take pride in something like this? — and brushes the tingling, aching mark on your body._

_”Now you’ll always remember me.”_

_You stifle a sob and sniffle a little._

_”I’ll always be with you.”_

_When you reluctantly inspect the damage he inflicted unto you, tears well in your eyes._

_In failed cursive scribbles, a word is spelt out._

_’Tobio.’_

_♪_

”C’mon,” Shouyou tugs on your wrist and lightly pushes you into a seat around a table at the far back of the bar. “We both know you need this. Relax a little, let loose your worries!” He flashes you a toothy grin.

You attempt to imitate him and fail.

”I don’t know...” you let the sentence dangle as you weigh your options; getting a bit drunk would be good (you’ll only have a drink or two), but you have to get up early for morning classes tomorrow.

”Hey, Hinata and (L/n). You’re here too,” a freckled male waves at you both and joins your table, “Tsukki and I haven’t seen you,” he directs his gaze to you, “in a bit. Everything okay?”

Yamaguchi flashes you a concerned smile, one that you’ve been on the receiving end for many times, his orbs scanning figure for any signs of illness.

You had told him you were feeling a little sick, not daring to voice your fret over the mysterious figure now assaulting you.

“Must’ve been an especially brutal cold if you were absent for nearly a week.”

A tall blond gracefully sits in the seat beside Yamaguchi, his arms crossing over his chest as he leans back and leers at you.

Tsukisihima always knows when you’re lying.

“It definitely was!” Shouyou interrupts, defending you and saving you from speaking. “I was with them; it was a super crazy cold! Like, a ‘ _bwah_ ,’ kinda sickness!”

Still so childish, he mimics the action of you throwing up with his arms, little sound effects escaping him.

The blond doesn’t look amused.

”Well,” Yamaguchi raises his hand for a waiter to appear, intent on ordering some alcohol, “it’s good you’re feeling better. Don’t overdo it, okay?”

He’s such a mom friend, him and Yachi.

You promise him you’ll take better care of yourself and a waiter appears, observantly jotting down your orders before disappearing.

”Let’s just have a good time, and forget about any bad things!” Shouyou vaguely proclaims, inciting Tsukishima to mockingly challenge his words, and they both end up bickering with each other.

Yamaguchi just shakes his head and rests his elbows on the table, peering at you. “Were you really just sick?” He persists. He’s not the type to force you to answer his questions, but he’s genuinely concerned for you that you can’t help but feel guilty.

”Yeah,” you lie, “sorry. My immune system has been a bit bad lately.”

”It’s ok,” he assures you, “just make sure you take care of your health.”

Your friends are so nice to you, that you can’t help but lose yourself in their endless chatter and the plethora of drinks sitting in front of you.

You stagger up and away from the table — the three males are conversing about... fashion choices? It sounds more like Tsukishima berating Shouyou for his poor sense of fashion and Yamaguchi just chuckling — and sleepily sit at the bar, swinging your legs on the stool.

”Can I—“ you pause and try to remember the name of your favourite alcohol.

You tell the bartender your order and he gets right to preparing it, sliding a glass towards his form and adding the necessary ingredients for your alcohol creation.

Someone sits down next to you and orders a beer. You purse your face; beer tastes so bad, who would want to willingly drink it?

You’re half tempted to incite a battle with the person, and you act upon it.

”Hey,” you slur, “wha... kinda weirdo drinks _beer_?”

The male swivels in his stool to look at you.

You squint your eyes.

Cropped, sleek locks of black hair cast a shadow over his eyes, which are the colour of a pretty sapphire, and he scowls at you, his flawless features twisting.

You know that face. You’ve seen him before.

”... Tobio?” You whisper, your eyes widening to the size of plates. “Is that you?”

”It’s been a while,” he replies to you, indirectly answering your astonished question. He sips his beer in a refined manner.

You laugh nervously, hopefully, he’s changed from when you last saw him. You chug some of your drink down, a little spilling from the corner of your lips as you ramble.

”It really has been such a long time! I’m glad that we can meet again. Honestly, my mom didn’t even really get a new job or anything like that,” you’re not sure why you’re telling him this, “so it was kinda hard for her to pay off our rent and stuff.”

A chuckle bubbles up from your throat. “The reason why we even ended up moving was because of you. I mean, totally not in a bad way—! You were just a little off when we were younger, I still have vivid memories of certain events, and it scared me so much I asked mom to book us a place somewhere away from you.”

You don’t notice the way his eyes darken.

”I’m glad that you’ve changed, now! I really didn’t want to end our friendship. What are you up to you?”

He humours you and responds that he’s been job searching recently, and scoping out a profession to go into.

You tell him all about your own job history, what you’re doing now (you have to stop yourself from ranting about your classes) and anything else that crops up in your mind.

It’s a sweet, friendly reunion.

You check your phone; it’s early in the morning. You should head back now.

You proceed to tell your friends that, stumbling out of your chair and gathering their attention.

”’M leaving, see you at home, Sho.”

”D’ya want me to walk you home?” He giggles a bit, his cheeks flushed as he stares at you.

You whip your head side to side. “Nah,” you imitate a ‘hero’ pose, “I can handle myself!”

He laughs and the three of them bid you goodbye, muttering about how they’d see you tomorrow.

You go to your now vacant seat, intent on saying bye to your childhood friend but he’s nowhere to be seen.

He must have left already.

The chilly, night breeze leaves a coldness in your bones, evoking you to wrap your arms around yourself for warmth.

There’s nobody around, save from a few stragglers here and there.

You begin making your way home.

”Should you really be walking alone at this time, idiot?”

Tobio’s monotonous, and brutal, voice halts your quest in going home, his large hand enveloping your bicep.

“Huh?” You intelligently mumble. The crisp air has allowed you to regain some sobriety. “I always walk home.” You supply, an eyebrow quirking in confusion.

”Really?” He doesn’t sound incredulous. “Even when there’s a killer on the loose?”

You pivot on your heels to gaze at him, yanking your arm out of his grip. “The Creator’s not been seen here, though, and they’ve been absent for a couple of weeks now.”

”You shouldn’t believe the news so carelessly. The Creator may be lurking somewhere.”

”What?” You cock your head to the side. “So you’re saying that someone here may be the infamous Creator?”

”Yeah,” he replies, “and you’re staring right at him.”

Something blunt and heavy slams into the back of your head, rendering you unconscious.

The last thing you see is Tobio’s delirious grin.

_♪_

“Help! Help! Anybody, please!”

You struggle against the chains binding you to the metal table, the rancid stench of rotting flesh invading your nostrils as you yell out uselessly.

The scent is so vile and acidic you’re amazed you haven’t vomited yet.

The place where you’re confined in is relatively large and dull; you assume it’s a basement since you can glimpse some sort of stairs on the other side of the room, but everything else is too dark for you to make out.

The stark realisation of being abducted has you crying hysterically, squirming against your bonds once more.

“Please, someone! Help!”

A door slams open but you’re too panic-stricken to notice.

Footsteps dig into the ground next to you.

A hand roughly slaps your cheek, sending your head swinging to the other side.

”Stop screaming or I’ll cut your fucking tongue off.”

”Wh— Tobio-chan! Please, why are you doing this?” You sob and wail, salty liquid stinging your bruised cheek as you stare up at him in affixed horror.

You don’t want to believe this.

”Shut up.” He barks at you. You snivel quietly. “I told you that you couldn’t forget me.”

A hand slams beside your head.

”I told you that you were mine, that we would always be together.”

A cry rips itself from your throat when he tears open your shirt and digs his fingers into the mark on your side.

”This here—“ he circles the messily-curved letters, “is proof of how much you mean to me. Of how you belong to me.”

He kisses the skin of your neck, breaking your skin and harshly sucking on your blood.

It hurts! It hurts so much! You just want this to stop, but all that escapes you are pained squeaks.

”When you left, I was so angry.” He rips your bottoms off, palming and groping your skin. “I wanted to murder someone. I wanted to kill your mother for taking you away from me.”

You squeal when he pierces the fat of your thigh, blood — that has to be the only substance — trickling down your leg.

”You’ve always been mine.”

He’s fully on top of you now, his mouth relentlessly attacking your neck and chest as he ruins the skin of your upper legs.

He drags his bloodied fingers between your legs.

You shriek and wriggle against him, trying to knock him off of you— but he’s so much stronger that he just holds you down and draws blood from the upper part of your chest.

”Stop fucking moving,” he growls at you, slamming your head against the table hard enough to leave a bruise. “You want this, so shut the fuck up.”

A wet digit pumps inside you, making you cry out at the intrusion. He curls his finger and you helplessly moan when he strikes something inside you.

His eyes are concentrated, sickly— devoted to his goal of taking your innocence, of soiling you, of corrupting you.

Another finger is added hastily, sliding inside to the third knuckle, coiling inside you as a strange warmth pools in your gut.

You involuntarily moan and writhe on the table when he brushes that spot in you again.

”See?” He coos at you, the action unusual on his stoic face. His fingers curl, grazing your walls. “This is where you belong.”

He rips his fingers out of you and smears more of your blood — he’s used that deadly knife of his to pierce even more of your skin, your body a canvas and him the painter — on his erect cock, the bulbous, veiny tip leaking discharge.

It’s menacing and you don’t want that inside of you.

“No, no, Tobio, no, nononono,” you shake your head, messy tresses flailing wildly when he positions himself to your entrance.

He snarls at you, hands gripping your hips roughly. “Let me fuck you, or else I’ll cut another hole in your body and fuck that.”

The mere notion leaves you shaking in a cold sweat, shoulders stiff and your heart beating rapidly.

He thrust all of his cock inside you at the same time his palms reach up to twist your nipples.

”Aah! Hah! St— To—“

You can’t make out any words, only whimpers and squeaks from the force of his thrusts.

”You’re mine, all mine,” his mouth is painted with your blood as he smashes it against yours, the coppery metallic making you gag as his tongue forces its way down your throat.

”Nobody else can have you. Nobody else _will_ have you!”

He fastens his pace and rams into your bound body, his hands fondling your flesh and yanking at any fat he can find on you.

You moan into his mouth, your cries of pleasure and pain swallowed by him as you wet his face with your stream of tears.

Everything about this situation is horrible, unimaginable.

You don’t want this. You want it to stop.

He propels himself forward, somehow stretching you further onto his cock, and grunts into your kiss. He allows you to have a breath of air before he’s on you again, teeth biting the skin of your lips and bruising it.

This scene is so violent. He’s so violent to you. He’s always been this way when it comes to you, you realise with a sob.

”My cocksleeve.” He deeply kisses you, sweat dripping down his forehead as he pants on top of you. “You’re taking me in so well, we were meant to be together.”

”Fuck, fuck,” he lowly groans, tugging your hair and harshly biting on the base of your neck. He noses into you, his hips angling inside you to abuse your bundle of nerves. “I’d kill for you. Shit, I have done that.”

”All those assholes,” he confesses to you, suckling your flesh, “were just in the way. They were just things for me to let me temper out on. You, though,” he rolls his hips against yours, “you’re so much better than them. You’re irreplaceable.”

He doesn’t slow down his pace, even when you cum, dazed and exhausted and weeping from the onslaught of stimulation.

”Mine, mine!” He pulls you down further on his cock, his hands wrapping around your waist to hold you in a faux lover’s embrace.

He cums inside you and stills. He lovingly peppers a kiss on your forehead.

”I love you, (Y/n).”

You’re nothing but a cherished doll to him, and he’s nothing but a controlling puppeteer.

”You’re mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> was that horrible? do you feel sick now?
> 
> if so, then that means you liked it!!! :D
> 
> yanderes are just fascinating creatures that i can’t stop writing about!!


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